


Perfect 10

by kujojongup



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ordinary People, Crossdressing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Identity Issues, Lazy Sex, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Self-Acceptance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, the crossdressing isn't a kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 08:37:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15311652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kujojongup/pseuds/kujojongup
Summary: Daehyun figures out something about himself, and Youngjae lets him know that it's okay.





	Perfect 10

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xlightless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xlightless/gifts).



> this went from "lmao imagine daehyun in black lipstick" to fucking emotional porn
> 
> im editing this at 4am so it's shit and probably has a million typos. oops.

 

Daehyun doesn’t know when it started, but he definitely knows why.

It’s wrong, isn’t it? It has to be. It isn’t something you see every day walking down the street.

No, he finds it when internet searches go too far and suddenly he’s watching a video of a _guy_ putting on _makeup._

_  
_

* * *

 

And it all happened because of his friends.

He loves them—debatably almost as much as he loves Youngjae, just in a different way. They’re fun, they’re loud, and they know how to have a good time. So when they drag him and Youngjae out clubbing, nothing seems out of the ordinary.

Nothing _is_ out of the ordinary. Daehyun’s mind just goes right ahead and makes everything weird.

They’re at a booth and he’s on Youngjae’s lap—and one moment he’s laughing at some dumb joke someone made, and the next he’s staring right at Yoonsun’s face. More specifically, her makeup. Not like there’s much to it or anything, just—it looks really nice.

It’s simple. Black eyeliner that kind-of looks like a tiny knife, fake eyelashes, and black lipstick. Nothing crazy. But for some reason, Daehyun can’t stop staring. He settles down and leans against Youngjae’s shoulder, exhaling.

“Don’t tell me you’re tired already,” Youngjae giggles.

Daehyun hums and rubs his nose into Youngjae’s neck. “You’re just comfortable.”

Youngjae coos and Himchan, damn him, makes a gagging noise across the table.

Whatever. Daehyun pretends to space out as he analyzes Yoonsun’s makeup until she gets up with Himchan and the girls to go dance.

“I don’t feel like dancing tonight,” Youngjae says. “You can go if you want.”

“No, it’s fine.” Daehyun readjusts himself so he’s sitting on the padded bench, with his legs thrown over Youngjae’s. “Can we order nachos?”

 

* * *

 

The days after are where he’s on the internet, browsing once he’s home from working an eight hour shift at the drug mart, and he searches _male makeup artist_.

Sometimes, his coworkers—the girls in the beauty section—comment on his eyelashes, or skin, or his lips and how they long for his features to put makeup on. He rolled his eyes and said boys don’t wear makeup. They said, “Sometimes they do,” and now his mind is whirring.

He finds hundreds of pictures of boys with varying states of makeup. Some looks like girls, some have full beards and bushy brows. They wear pinks and purples and talk about their favourite products—just like the girls at his job do, with the same vocabulary and the same enthusiasm.

Truth be told, Daehyun isn’t interested in brands and formulas and all that he sees being talked about.

He thinks back to Yoonsun’s simple look, and can’t help but imagine it on himself. How his eyes would look feline, how his lips would stand out even more than they already do-

A few more clicks and he sees boys in fashion he thought was just for girls. In crop tops, chokers, high-heeled boots, jewelry, and fishnet stocking under ripped jeans. There’s so much—flower crowns and rhinestones and painted, sharp nails. All with the eyeliner, the eyelashes, the highlight, the lipstick.

He imagines himself in it all. The makeup—but also in high-cut shorts with boots all the way up to his thighs, fishnet stockings peeking out in the space between the denim and the boots, but also reaching up to his waist. He’s in a crop top, but he can't choose between the logos of the metal bands he likes.

He thinks about the chokers Youngjae wears to parties sometimes. Would they fit around his neck, too? Does he see himself in a plain black stripe, or a decorated one with chains hanging from it?

It takes over his imagination, for a little while.

Don’t even get him started on the painted nails-

Daehyun finds himself scrolling through images and videos all evening, until Youngjae comes home and he swears he hasn’t cleared his search history that fast since the days of living with his parents.

 

* * *

 

For a while, it stays like that. Daehyun searching in incognito mode whenever he’s alone in his and Youngjae’s apartment.

He didn’t realize it would make him feel so conflicted. He’s not a girl, he knows that much. But something about wearing bralettes and see-though mesh tops, and leggings with flower patterns with cropped sweaters—with dark-toned shades of pink on his lips…

But he can’t bear to imagine the reaction he’d get.

It’s okay that he fills in his eyebrows—Himchan and Youngjae do it, too. That’s no issue.

The eyeliner and lipstick, though. The fake lashes and the clothes.

What would Youngjae think of him? Would he be repulsed? Or would he kindly let him down with “we’re better off as friends”?

Maybe he’d look at him like a freak, or maybe he wouldn’t be able to see him as a man anymore.

Daehyun feels stupid when he cries thinking about it. The weeks it takes for his curiosity to build into yearning only make him feel guilty and afraid. He feels like he needs to try it out, to express himself in this new way, to get out of his baggy jeans that become more and more uncomfortable.

It’s just fashion. It’s just makeup. Why does it make his nerves tingle with excitement at the thought of it?

Of course, Youngjae’s noticing something’s wrong. He’s too perceptive. But when he asks and doesn’t get an answer, he doesn’t bother pressing the issue and lets Daehyun curl into him.

If only Youngjae knew, Daehyun thinks.

He wouldn’t want to hold him anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

Daehyun doesn’t know how many weeks go by before he starts feeling like he’s trapped. He loves his thigh-hugging pants and his jackets, his tank-tops and his boots. But that’s all he has and he wants _more_. Things that shouldn't be worn by a man like him.

Strange feelings curl inside of him that make him question himself. He waits for Youngjae to have a full day of work while he gets a day off, so he can be alone.

He tries to get off to porn where a man is being fucked into the mattress, being called a good girl and—no, it doesn’t feel right. He’s blocking out that part and focusing on the sex.

He stands in front of the mirror and says: “I’m Jung Daehyun. I’m a boy.” It doesn’t make him feel weird. What makes him feel weird is imagining boobs on himself and, yeah, no.

Flopping on the bed, he stuff his face into a pillow and groans. He doesn’t want to be a girl. He just wants to…fuck, he doesn’t know. Express himself? What does that even mean?

Why is it so fucking complicated?

 

* * *

 

Daehyun feels good.

They slept in on a Sunday—it’s 11-something in the morning and they just woke up maybe thirty minutes ago. Slow morning kisses built up and now he’s whining because Youngjae is hitting just the right spot-

It’s good. He feels good. He’s tired and heavy and still partially stuck in that half-asleep state where it’s hard to think—and pleasure is building up inside of him, not too slow and not too fast. Youngjae’s lazy thrusts are perfect.

Daehyun mewls when Youngjae leans over him. His legs come up and wrap around Youngjae’s waist to keep him at that perfect angle. His eyes are closed but he knows when to suck in breath just before Youngjae’s kissing him again and nibbling at his lower lip.

“Hey,” Youngjae murmurs, and Daehyun hums. “I know it’s probably not the right time to have a conversation—dick in your ass, and all—but you fell asleep on your laptop last night.”

Daehyun blinks and furrows his eyebrows in confusion. Youngjae stops thrusting, and he instinctively starts rolling his hips, trying to keep things going. Why did it stop?

“I mean,” Youngjae swallows, “your laptop was on. And I saw your incognito window.”

Daehyun’s breath hitches—suddenly he’s wide awake and staying as still as he can; his heartbeat starts to gain speed and the longer he and Youngjae stare at each other, the more scared he feels.

He searches Youngjae’s expression for some kind of sign—of disgust, hatred, confusion, anger, anything—but all he sees are those same caring eyes that are there whenever he’s upset.

Youngjae’s hips roll a few times, and it’s unfair. Daehyun’s trying to mentally prepare himself for rejection, and it’s difficult when Youngjae doesn’t talk and gives him pleasure instead.

“How long have you been looking at that…stuff?” Youngjae asks right as he presses just a bit deeper and Daehyun lets out a languid moan.

“A few months,” he says after a beat. He’s starting to really appreciate that Youngjae’s dick is in his ass. It makes him relaxed, maybe even a bit pliant. Regardless, the bliss takes away any fear he has. “Are you mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” Youngjae wheezes. He kisses Daehyun’s forehead like he’s something special. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Daehyun whimpers, and he’s not sure if it’s because they’re having sex or because his heart tightens at Youngjae’s reassuring words. Probably both.

“I was scared,” he says. “It’s weird—people think it’s-”

“Shh, stop that.” Youngjae lowers his chest to Daehyun’s, and the new angle when he thrusts cuts off Daehyun’s thoughts. “I’m always on your side. It doesn’t matter what anyone else says, okay? Don’t hide things like that from me. I’ll love you no matter what.”

He stops moving and gives Daehyun a moment. It’s just enough for his words to sink in and bring a few tears to Daehyun’s eyes. He always knows exactly what to say to make everything better. “I thought you’d be grossed out—or that you wouldn’t want me anymore,” his voice cracks.

Youngjae giggles and rubs their noses together, before moving to kiss away the two tears running down Daehyun’s cheeks. “Why?”

“Because I want to wear makeup and girl clothes.” Daehyun exhales as Youngjae’s lips move to his neck. He wraps his arms around Youngjae’s back and pulls him closer. “And that’s not normal, I don’t know.”

“Daehyun,” Youngjae says. “We’ve been to drag shows together.”

“It’s not drag, it’s just-”

“I know, I know. I’m just making a point.” His arms wiggle their way under Daehyun’s back, and suddenly everything is spinning. “If I accept them, what makes you think I wouldn’t accept you?” He flips them over and shimmies around a bit so he’s leaning against the pillows, Daehyun sitting on him with his legs landing on either side of Youngjae’s thighs. "I'm not grossed out. You don't need to be scared of me thinking like that."

“I’m sorry,” Daehyun says, voice wavering as Youngjae starts to thrust up into him. “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize,” Youngjae says lowly. Suddenly, he sounds raspy and manly and Daehyun finds himself shivering. His thrusts stay slow but push into Daehyun harder. “Let me take care of you, then we’ll talk, okay? It’s okay, I love you. Don’t worry.”

Daehyun can only whine and nod, burying his face in Youngjae’s neck as fresh tears slip down his cheeks.

Youngjae’s holding him close. He’s not disgusted, he’s not going to leave—he still loves him.

Daehyun feels like the entire world has been lifted off his shoulders.

 

* * *

 

The sex was lazy as hell, and he can still feel his legs, but Daehyun finds himself lying flat on his back while Youngjae cleans him up and gets clothes for them.

Daehyun tugs him onto the bed the second he’s able, and Youngjae doesn’t complain. They sit cross-legged, facing each other, and Youngjae holds both of Daehyun’s hands, rubbing circles into the skin with his thumbs. Breeze comes through the open window, and so do the sound of birds and cars driving on the main road. It fills the silence as Youngjae waits.

“I’m not a girl,” is the first thing that comes out of Daehyun’s mouth. “I don't feel like one, I just—I like how it looks. Like when I picture myself with the makeup and the clothes and all that, I guess.”

His cheeks feel like they’re on fire. It’s awkward, it’s embarrassing—explaining how he feels is so difficult. It isn’t like when he’s angry and can rant about it; this is about him and who he is and what he wants to be—and what he wants to be is something weird and taboo.

But Youngjae just smiles at him. “Alright. Do you want to shop for some clothes?”

Daehyun blinks, eyes wide. “Like, in—in public-?”

“No, online,” Youngjae clarifies. “We can take your measurements and order some stuff. Or we can ask the girls if they have anything to lend you.”

Daehyun’s shoulder tense up. “But what if they think-”

“They won’t judge you, Daehyun,” Youngjae says. His voice is firm and serious, and makes Daehyun cut off and wait. “Just because there are assholes out there that think it’s gross, or whatever, doesn’t mean that everyone thinks like that. You know our friends, you know they aren’t going to judge you. Think about it.”

He thinks about it—and Youngjae’s right. They’ve all talked about male beauty vloggers at some point, he knows for a fact. When he was scrolling through Instagram he saw that they were following a few. They aren’t going to turn their backs and hate Daehyun for wanting to be a little bit like that.

Youngjae must be psychic or something, because he smiles when Daehyun starts to feel a little bit better.

“You can ask one of them to do your makeup, too. Teach you how to do it,” Youngjae says, a tinge of excitement in his voice—like he’s happy for Daehyun. “It’s up to you.”

Daehyun’s mouth feels dry and he just wants to bury himself in the arms of his fucking amazing boyfriend. “I like Yoonsun’s makeup…can I ask her?”

“Of course. Whatever you want.” Youngjae giggles and moves forward to kiss the tip of Daehyun’s nose.

There’s a stiff pause all of a sudden, and Daehyun focuses to see an unreadable look on Youngjae’s face. He’s smiling, but seems uncertain.

“Daehyun,” he says. “Please don’t ever think you can’t talk to me about something. Whatever you need, I’m here for. I love you.”

Daehyun thinks his heart might just explode. Once again, tears well up on his waterline, and he hides them by launching himself forward and tackling Youngjae against the bed in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” he mumbles into the fabric of Youngjae’s sweater. “I love you too.”

He couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, wow,” Youngjae says.

Daehyun shifts nervously. He’s looking up at Youngjae standing in the doorway to the bathroom, resisting every urge to turn his head and look in the mirror as Yoonsun and Eunae work with his hair.

He can’t read Youngjae’s expression, and it’s sending fear right to his gut. Suddenly, the fishnets are too tight, and the shorts hug him awkwardly. The black crop top is suffocating—and he feels too exposed. He can’t help but wrap his long flannel around him and duck his head in an attempt to hide.

“Hey, don’t cover up.” Youngjae walks closer, but stops abruptly along with the hands in Daehyun’s hair.

“Don’t touch him, you’ll ruin something,” Eunae accuses, and Youngjae backs up with his arms raised in surrender.

The hands start up again—seriously, what are they doing?—and Youngjae crouches in front of Daehyun’s chair to look up at him with a smile. “ _Damn_.”

Daehyun’s thankful for the foundation on his skin, because he feels the blood rushing right up to his cheeks from the way Youngjae says that one, simple word.

“Seriously, how is your hair so soft?” Yoonsun complains. “It’s perfect.”

“You’ve said that about literally everything about him.”

Daehyun feels the hands stop again as Yoonsun moves to slap Eunae—he can hear it. He can’t help but laugh at their misery.

He can feel the lipstick sticking to his lips, liquid and matte and so thick it’s hard to resist licking it off from discomfort. He knows he’ll get used to it, but still. It’s a strange feeling. He wants to rub his eyes, too.

“Well she’s not wrong,” Youngjae adds—and Daehyun totally doesn’t _squeak_.

It’s such a far cry from Youngjae’s usual teasing remarks, to have him say such heartfelt things without a single break for a snarky comment in-between. The fond look in his eyes usually never lasts this long, and now it’s starting to make Daehyun feel like he’s melting.

“Alright, that’s it,” Eunae blurts and claps her hands once, startling Daehyun. “You ready to see yourself?”

“Maybe?” Daehyun answers, and they all chuckle.

“You look great, trust me,” Yoonsun says. There’s reason to not believe her.

Youngjae takes Daehyun’s hands and guides him to stand up, then puts his hands on Daehyun’s shoulders and turns him towards the mirror-

 

Oh.

 

They made his hair a little wavy—it looks good with the purple tone, but-

 

_Oh._

 

So that’s what he looks like. With that black eyeliner and fake eyelashes and black lipstick he admired on Yoonsun months ago.

And with the crop top, the shorts, the fishnets… the boots and nail polish will have to wait, but-

 

Jesus fucking Christ.

 

“I love it,” he says, and for some reason, starts laughing. “I actually—I love it. Thank you— _fuck._ Oh my God.”

It's like he's a totally different person and he loves it. It's better than he imagined; everything fits perfectly. At least, he thinks so. He feels confident and has to fight the urge to pose and turn to see how his ass looks. 

He looks towards Yoonsun and Eunae, and his eyes jump back to the mirror when Youngjae wraps his arms around his waist and puts his chin on his shoulder.

It looks right. Daehyun likes this picture of them. This picture of him in this get-up and Youngjae right behind him, holding him, making him feel so special and loved.

 

Yeah, this is right.

 

“What now?” Youngjae asks. “Do you wanna just stay home and take a few pictures? Or do you wanna go out?”

Daehyun purses his lips and focuses on not biting them. “Stay home,” he says after a beat. “I don’t think I’m ready to go out like this, yet.”

Youngjae smiles and kisses his neck and, dammit, he feels so happy it hurts. He’s too lucky to have friends like Yoonsun and Eunae, who’d help him with this—and Youngjae.

Fuck, _Youngjae._

Daehyun could give less of a fuck of what others will think of him, if Youngjae keeps looking at him like that.

 

“Hey,” he says with a smile, leaning back into his boyfriend’s chest. “I love you.”

Youngjae lets out what sounds like a mix of a hum and a whine, tugging Daehyun closer while swaying them back and forth as Daehyun giggles.

 

“I love you more.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hey if you're reading this, leave a comment but also go read Hearth for some more emotional boys
> 
> thank you for reading :)


End file.
